Chapter 39: Trial by Performance

The morning sun hit Cāng Jì’s face, and for a split second, he looked majestic.

He stood in the center of the Great Monkey Plaza (which was really just a large, flat branch with some flowers woven into it), his arms crossed, his chin tilted up at a forty-five-degree angle that screamed, “I am better than you, and also my robes cost more than your life.”

The cuddle-puddle of yesterday? Gone. Repressed. Buried deep in the vault of “Things We Never Speak Of,” right next to the incident with the bed-wetting monkey.

Today, Cāng Jì was back. The Golden Prince was rebooted.

“Let us get this over with,” Cāng Jì announced, his voice booming with enough authority to rattle the coconuts three trees over. “I have tolerated your fur. I have tolerated your….bonding. Now, I demand the second trial. I shall complete it with flawless perfection, retrieve my stone, and leave this flea-infested canopy before lunch.”

Hóu Wáng, the Monkey King, sat on his vine-throne, chewing on a piece of sugar cane with aggravating slowness. He looked at Cāng Jì, then at the massive crowd of monkeys holding crude drums made of hollowed-out gourds.

“Trial Two is simple, Sparkles,” the Monkey King grinned, spitting out a piece of fiber. “You must perform the Sacred Dance of Apology.”

Cāng Jì scoffed. “A dance? Ha! Do you take me for a novice? I have mastered the Celestial Waltz of the Nine Heavens. I have performed the courtship display of the Sun-Fire Drakes. A mere monkey dance is beneath me.”

“Excellent!” Hóu Xián swung down from a vine, dangling inches from the Dragon’s nose. “Then you won’t mind wearing the ceremonial outfit!”

Cāng Jì froze. “The….. what?”

Hóu Xián held up a skirt.

It wasn’t just a skirt. It was a chaotic explosion of neon-colored tropical feathers, dried leaves, and, was that a dead lizard tied to the belt?, woven into a garment that looked like it had been designed by a colorblind parrot.

“Absolutely not,” Cāng Jì stated. “I would rather die. I would rather be peeled like a grape.”

“No skirt, no stone!” Hóu Wáng sang out, waving the glowing blue Lumina-Stone in the air like a mesmerizing pendulum.

Cāng Jì’s eye twitched. He looked at the stone. He looked at the skirt. He looked at Bai Yue, who was currently stuffing her fist into her mouth to keep from screaming with laughter.

Ten minutes later, the Dragon Prince of the First Generation stood before the tribe.

He was wearing the skirt.

He looked like a angry, golden chicken.

“I hate this,” Cāng Jì whispered to the universe. “I hate this realm. I hate the concept of rhythm.”

BOOM-BOOM-CLACK!

The monkey drummers began a beat that was less “music” and more “panic induced by a predator attack.”

“DANCE!” Hóu Wáng roared.

Cāng Jì didn’t move. He stood frozen, his dignity battling his desperation in a silent war that turned his face a fascinating shade of purple.

“Dance, Lizard!” Hóu Xián jeered, throwing a mango pit that bounced harmlessly off Cāng Jì’s shoulder.

“FINE!” Cāng Jì screamed. “I WILL DANCE! AND IT WILL BE THE GREATEST DANCE YOU HAVE EVER SEEN! YOU WILL WEEP AT MY GRACE!”

And then, he moved.

To be fair to the Dragon Prince, he tried. He really did. He attempted to channel the elegance of the heavens. He extended his arms, pointed his toes, and leaped.

But the skirt was heavy. And the beat was chaotic. And there was a banana peel on the stage that no one had mentioned.

Squelch.

“WHOA!”

Cāng Jì’s foot slid. His arms flailed. He did a windmill motion that looked less like a celestial waltz and more like a man fighting invisible bees. He spun, tripped over his own tail, recovered with a stumble, and accidentally kicked a drum into the audience.

“OOOOH!” The monkeys cheered wildly. “Look at his footwork! So unpredictable! So raw!”

“I MEANT TO DO THAT!” Cāng Jì shrieked, striking a pose that was half-ballerina, half-karate chop. “THIS IS INTERPRETIVE!”

He spun again. He was sweating. He was panting. He was humiliated on a cellular level.

But he finished. He ended in a crouch, arms spread wide, breathing heavily as the feathers settled around him.

Silence filled the clearing.

Then, Hóu Wáng stood up and started a slow clap.

“Beautiful,” the Monkey King wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Truly. I haven’t seen flailing of that quality since Hóu Xián fell out of the ugly tree.”

Cāng Jì stood up, ripping the feather skirt off his waist and throwing it into the crowd.

“I did it,” he panted, his chest heaving. He extended a demanding hand toward the throne. “Give. Me. The. Stone.”

Hóu Wáng sighed. “A deal is a deal.”

Hóu Wáng sighed, leaning back on his vine-throne and picking a piece of lint off his knee. “A deal is a deal… for Trial Two.”

Cāng Jì froze, his hand still outstretched, sweat dripping from his nose onto his ruined boots. “What?”

“That was the dance. Very moving. I particularly liked the part where you looked like a duck having a seizure,” the Monkey King grinned, showing all his yellow teeth. “But you are forgetting something, Sparkles. Trial Three.”

“I… I danced,” Cāng Jì wheezed, his chest heaving painfully. “I wore the lizard-belt. I kicked the drum. What more do you want? Blood? My liver?”

“The apology,” Hóu Wáng said, his voice dropping to a surprisingly serious register. “The sincere, public, profuse apology for burning down our ancestral home. We want to hear it. And it better be good. If I detect even a whiff of sarcasm, I’m throwing this stone into the river.”

Cāng Jì looked at the blue stone pulsing in the Monkey King’s hand. He looked at the hundreds of monkeys staring at him with judgmental eyes. He looked at Bai Yue, who gave him a supportive double thumbs-up that he found incredibly annoying.

He closed his eyes. He swallowed his pride. It tasted like bile.

“I…” Cāng Jì started, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“LOUDER!” Hóu Xián screeched from the branches. “WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I AM SORRY!” Cāng Jì roared, the veins in his neck bulging.

“Sorry for what?” Hóu Wáng prompted, cupping his ear. “Be specific. Paint us a word picture.”

Cāng Jì took a deep, shuddering breath. He fell to his knees. He actually fell to his knees in the dirt.

“I apologize,” he shouted, his voice cracking, “for burning down the Sacred Banyan Tree! It was……it was a rash decision! I was arrogant! I was sleep-deprived! I was a petulant lizard with no appreciation for arboriculture!”

The monkeys leaned in. This was better than the dance.

“I was wrong!” Cāng Jì continued, the words tumbling out in a desperate flood. “The tree was magnificent! It was the pinnacle of wood! And I turned it into charcoal because I have the emotional maturity of a walnut! I am a vandal! I am a menace to forestry! I beg the Golden Monkey Tribe for forgiveness! I am unworthy to peel your bananas! I am scum! I am pond scum! PLEASE JUST GIVE ME THE ROCK!”

Silence stretched across the plaza.

Hóu Wáng looked at the prostrate Dragon Prince. He looked at the stone. A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his wrinkled face.

“Hmm,” the Monkey King mused. “Not bad. A little pitchy on the ’pond scum’ part, but I felt the desperation. Very well.”

He stood up. “Trial Three…..complete.”

Cāng Jì’s head snapped up. Hope, bright and blinding, flooded his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, holding out his trembling hands.

“Catch,” Hóu Wáng said simply.

He tossed the Lumina-Stone.

It wasn’t a trick throw. It was a gentle, underhand lob. The blue gem sailed through the air, catching the sunlight, spinning slowly.

Cāng Jì lunged. His fingers closed around the cool, smooth surface of the stone.

He had it. He actually had it.

“YES!” Cāng Jì screamed, clutching the stone to his chest. “I HAVE IT! I HAVE WON!”

The relief was so intense it was practically a drug. He laughed, a manic, high-pitched sound.

“You thought you could break me?” he shouted at the monkeys, raising the stone high above his head in triumph. “I am Cāng Jì! I am the Golden Prince! I have danced your dance and spoken your words, but I am still the—WHOA!”

In his excitement, he waved his hand too vigorously.

His palm was still slick with the sweat of his humiliation.

The Lumina-Stone, smooth as glass, slipped.

It shot out of his grip like a wet bar of soap fired from a cannon.

“NO!”

Time seemed to freeze. Bai Yue watched in horror. Even the monkeys gasped.

The stone flew in a perfect arc over the edge of the platform.

Cāng Jì dove for it, his fingers brushing the empty air, but he was too late.

The stone fell.

Down.

Down past the branches.

Down past the vines.

Down into the thick, swirling, unnatural gray mist that pooled at the very roots of the giant Iron-Wood trees.

Gloop.

A distant, sickening sound echoed up from the abyss.

Cāng Jì lay on his stomach at the edge of the platform, staring down into the fog. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

“Grandfather,” Hóu Xián whispered, his voice trembling for the first time. “That…..that’s the Forbidden Swamp, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hóu Wáng said, his smirk vanishing instantly. “The nesting grounds of the Swamp Hydras.”

Cāng Jì slowly lifted his head. His face was a mask of absolute emptiness.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “that I did not just drop my soul-stone into a pit of hydras.”

From the depths of the mist, a terrifying, multi-headed roar answered him, shaking the leaves off the trees.

ROAAAARRRRRR!

Cāng Jì fainted.

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